The day Ellirri was left behind at the fortress with Madoc she cried and cried. For she was too young to take part in the hunting party. In truth, so was Gwydion, but Awst refused to leave him behind. So they set out—Awst, the Queen, King Rhodri, Uthyr, Gwydion, and many warriors from the Queen’s teulu. It was a real hunting trip and they would camp out in the forest of Coed Dulas for the night.
They had left early in the morning and reached their campsite by mid-afternoon. In the tumult of setting up camp, Gwydion and Uthyr were able to slip away. They played that they were mighty hunters, stalking their prey through the forest. So intent were they on their game that they strayed far away from camp.
In the middle of stalking through a thicket, Gwydion suddenly said, “Wait a minute. Are we lost?”
“Lost? Of course not,” Uthyr replied cheerfully.
“But I don’t hear any of the others.”
Uthyr stood still and listened hard. From far away they heard the muted roll of thunder. “Uh oh,” Uthyr muttered. “Storm. We’d better get back.”
“But which way?”
“This way.” Uthyr said, with feigned confidence, and they set off. The afternoon grew darker and through the trees they saw storm clouds piling up over the forest.
“We’re lost aren’t we?” Gwydion finally asked, fighting to keep his voice from trembling.
“Yes,” Uthyr replied seriously. “We are. But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
“I’m—I’m not scared.”
“Oh, I know that,” Uthyr said. He took Gwydion’s thin, cold hand into his large, warm one. “Come on. Let’s keep walking.”
Overhead, thunder rolled and flashes of lightning split the sky. After each flash they were momentarily blinded, and had to halt until they could see again. The wild wind whipped the trees in a manic frenzy. But it did not rain.
Gwydion was horribly frightened. He was lost, and the storm was so fierce. And he was only six years old. At each flash of lightning, at each roll of thunder, he hunched his thin shoulders, and held more tightly to Uthyr’s hand.
They took what shelter they could beneath a large, spreading oak tree. Panting, they stopped to get their breath back. A flash of lighting, so bright they had to close their eyes, hit the tree cracking through the air like a whip. With a huge, tearing sound the tree split, and half of it came crashing down. Uthyr jumped out of the way, still holding Gwydion’s hand. But Gwydion did not move fast enough and, as the tree fell, he was trapped beneath the heavy branches. The tree was on fire, blazing up like a torch. Gwydion, blinded by the smoke, and baked by the heat sobbed in terror beneath the branches that pinned him.
And then Uthyr let go of his hand.
But Uthyr did not run. Instead, he grasped the burning trunk and, straining with all his might, he lifted it slightly, just enough to allow Gwydion to crawl out.
Gwydion scrambled away from the tree on his hands and knees, and Uthyr dropped the burning branches, nursing his scorched hands. Gwydion felt a horrible heat, a burning, and a blistering on his back. He leapt up to run but Uthyr, with a cry, jumped on him, beating out the flames that were consuming him.
And then, suddenly, oh blessed relief, their father was there. And the Queen and many others, besides. Awst grabbed both of his sons, hauling them far away from the burning tree. He held them close and hugged them fiercely with tears of relief flowing down his white, drawn face.
“Uthyr,” Gwydion sobbed. “Uthyr saved me. I was trapped. The fire—”
“Yes, yes,” Awst soothed. “It’s all over. You’re all right now.”
“It burns, Da. It burns,” Gwydion moaned.
“I know, I know,” Awst replied. “Hush now. You’re going to be all right.”
“It burns, it burns.”
SOMEONE WAS SHAKING him awake. He opened his eyes and blinked, recognizing the face of the man standing over him. It was Dudod, Rhiannon’s uncle. His face was lined with weariness. His green eyes were shadowed and subdued.
“Have you come to help me then?” Gwydion slurred, still half asleep.
Dudod smiled sadly. “I have come to take you to her. And may the gods forgive me for what I do.”
Chapter Fourteen
Coed Aderyn Kingdom of Prydyn, Kymru Gwinwydden Mis, 494
Gwaithdydd, Disglair Wythnos—early evening
Gwydion and Dudod left Dinmael early the next morning. Their hasty parting did not seem to break any hearts. Angharad was clearly glad to see him go. Olwen was, for her, ecstatic—she almost smiled.
Dudod had said they were making for Coed Aderyn. “But I went to Coed Aderyn,” Gwydion protested. “On my way to Arberth. And I called out to her. But there was no answer.”